


Happy Hour (the Open to Misinterpretation Remix)

by EachPeachPearPlum



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anxiety, Depression, Enemies to Friends, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Misunderstandings, Social Anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-03-29 09:55:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19017544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EachPeachPearPlum/pseuds/EachPeachPearPlum
Summary: For the most part, Mordred's workplace isn't that bad. The workload isn't too heavy, his boss treats him well, and his colleagues do their best to be understanding when he's having a bad day.Apart from Merlin, that is. Merlinhateshim, and Mordred has absolutely no idea why.





	Happy Hour (the Open to Misinterpretation Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Polomonkey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polomonkey/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Happy Hour](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4610724) by [Polomonkey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polomonkey/pseuds/Polomonkey). 



> Polomonkey, it has been an honour to create for you. I know this is probably more gen than you might have wanted, but I hope you like it anyway.
> 
> As is so often the case, much love and gratitude goes to G for the beta and general hand-holding. Knowing I have people like you in my life makes the bad days a little less bad.
> 
> For everyone reading, I would strongly suggest checking out the fic that inspired this first, since this will only make so much sense without it.

It's going to be a bad day.

He's not supposed to think like that, say the multitude of therapists he's seen over the years. It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy, they’ve told him, because if he starts out thinking that way he’ll only see the bad things that happen and completely miss the good ones. He’ll be grumpy and irritable, other people will react in kind, and Mordred’s bad mood will _make_ it a bad day.

Mordred understands that. The problem is, not one of his therapists has ever been able to tell him how to stop thinking like that.

X

He gets out of bed, eventually. Bad day or not, if he doesn’t go to work, he doesn’t get paid and neither do his bills.

He gets out of bed.

X

Work is… well, it’s not meant to be fun, is it, and he’s sure there are worse places to be. They're understanding, really, as much as people who _don't understand_ can be.

He gets time off for his appointments, no questions asked, and as long as he gets someone to cover his phone his manager is alright with him putting on his headphones and pretending the world outside of his computer doesn't exist if he needs to. His team make sure to include him in the coffee runs even when he's having a silent day, and no one comments when he has to set himself a reminder to return the favour. Someone in the building (usually Arthur, VP of marketing, or Gwen, queen of HR, or sometimes even Morgana, who hides her squishy gentle centre behind an absolutely terrifying exterior and also happens to be Mordred’s boss) makes sure to gently push him to join them for lunch at least a couple of times a week, and he’s always invited on team nights out even though he rarely accepts, too convinced they're only asking him to be polite and don't actually want him there at all.

They're kind, definitely kinder than he deserves, but that doesn't mean they get it.

X

Mordred isn't late for work. Not today, not any day. Routine is important, helps him make it through the empty, grey days when he can't think any further ahead than the next task, and getting to work on time is part of that.

(Sometimes it's just so damn difficult, though.)

Today isn't as bad as some days. It's the middle of the month, so it's only low-level busy, not the kind of manic things get at month-end, and it's Friday, which means tomorrow is Saturday and Mordred can spend the whole day in his pyjamas if he feels like it, absolutely no adulting required.

It's Friday, which means Mordred’s phone pings at him at 10:50, his cue to stand up and start collecting mugs from the team’s desks before making his way to the building’s kitchen. There’s not normally anyone else in here at this time, which means Mordred shouldn't have to queue for the kettle, and he shouldn't have to make awkward small talk with whoever’s in front of him.

Except _not normally_ isn't the same thing as _never_ , and right now Gwen and Merlin are putting tea or coffee into a collection of mugs.

Mordred hesitates, hovering in the doorway, because although Gwen is just about the nicest person he's ever met, Merlin is… not.

In fact, Mordred’s pretty sure Merlin hates him, and he has absolutely no idea what he's done to deserve it.

He’s not going in there, Mordred decides. He can leave his tray of mugs on the edge of someone’s desk, hide in the toilets for a couple of minutes, and then come back to the kitchen when it's been long enough for Merlin to have left.

It's Friday. Mordred doesn't have the energy to deal with someone who hates him.

“Morning, Mordred,” Gwen says, noticing him just as he's about to launch his tactical retreat.

 _Crap_ , Mordred thinks, stepping into the kitchen and dredging up a smile for her; whatever Merlin’s imagined issue with him is, it's not Gwen’s fault. She didn't know Mordred was trying to escape before Merlin noticed him, and she doesn't deserve Mordred being angry at her. Telling himself this doesn’t actually do anything other than make him feel guilty as well as angry, so Mordred decides he might as well get this awkward conversation over with.

“Hi, Gwen,” he says, putting the tray down by the sink and then, because he is the better person in this situation, adds, “Merlin. How’s it going?”

Merlin _grimaces_ , then tries and fails to hide it behind a very weak approximation of a smile. He doesn't say anything, doesn’t offer any real acknowledgement of Mordred’s presence, just takes a step away from Gwen, picks up his own tray of mugs and murmurs, “See you later,” on his way out of the door.

“Bye, Merlin,” Gwen says to his back, then gives Mordred a look he can only interpret as _what did you do?_

He shakes his head. “Don't look at me,” he replies. “I have no idea why he hates me.”

“Merlin doesn't hate you, Mordred.” Gwen seems more surprised by Mordred’s statement than she was by Merlin’s very abrupt departure. “Honestly, he's so nice I'm not sure he has it in him to hate anyone.”

The thing about Gwen is, she actually believes that. She's not a pushover, not by a long way, but she's willing to give everyone the benefit of the doubt; Mordred’s pretty sure she went into HR because she likes people, because she wants them to be happy with their jobs and their lives.

He likes her for it, and definitely has a much easier time at work because of her, but he doesn't remotely understand how she does it.

“What was that, then?” he asks.

Gwen pats his arm gently. “He's just shy, Mordred,” she tells him; clearly, Mordred’s face shows his doubts about this, because she carries on. “I promise he doesn't hate you. Just get to know him, okay? Give him a chance.”

“Fine,” he says, sighing, because it's impossible to argue with someone who so wholly believes the best of people.

Gwen beams at him, like he's done something more than offer his very hesitant agreement, and then carries on putting her drinks together without comment; Mordred follows suit, giving the mugs a quick wash first.

“You haven't forgotten we’re all going out tonight, right?” Gwen says, as the crappy old kettle gets progressively louder.

“Oh,” Mordred says, having both deliberately and very happily done just that, then reaches for his one of his usual excuses. “I'm not sure I'll be able to, Gwen. Things are pretty busy at the moment.”

That earns him a disappointed enough look that Mordred knows he should have gone with the _sick relative_ excuse instead. “Huh,” Gwen says. “That's strange. I spoke to Morgana first thing, and she said there was no reason you couldn't all leave on time this evening.”

 _Crap_ , Mordred thinks again.

“Kettle,” Gwen says, gently bumping him out of the way and pouring freshly boiled water into mugs. “See you tonight, Mordred.”

She smiles, picks up her tray, and disappears before Mordred can try explain why he should really be allowed to skip the team outing.

 _Crap_.

X

“You'll have fun once you get there,” Sefa says, when Mordred calls her from the car on his way home.

Mordred knows she's right – knew it the very first time he heard something like that, when his mum was trying to persuade him to get out of the car at a classmate’s birthday party, and has known it every time someone has told him that since then – but that doesn't make it any better. A lot of his colleagues are entertaining people, good people, and he does enjoy spending time with them, but that doesn't mean he _wants_ to go.

Mordred likes his home. He likes going back there after work, locking the door behind him, and knowing he's not going to see anyone until at least the following morning. He likes changing into his pyjamas, microwaving a plate of leftovers and curling up on the sofa in front of the telly, finally getting to drop the _exhausting_ pretence that he's a proper, functioning human being.

Whether or not he’ll have a good time doesn't matter. The point is, he doesn't _want_ to go out.

“Yeah,” he says, because trying to explain that is like banging his head against a brick wall.

“Call me tomorrow,” Sefa instructs. “You can tell me all about how right I am.”

“Yeah,” Mordred repeats, and hits the button on his steering wheel to hang up the phone.

X

(She's right, damn it.)

X

(Worse – or maybe better, Mordred hasn't decided yet – so is Gwen.)

X

 _Monday_ , Mordred thinks when he wakes up three minutes before his alarm goes off, _might not actually be that bad_.

It doesn't take him as long to get out of bed as it does sometimes, and getting stuck behind a slow driver on his way to work doesn't irritate him as much as it might have done on another day. He doesn't park up and then sit there for five minutes, trying to psych himself up enough to get out of the car and head into the office.

Gwen, unlike Sefa, has the good manners not to say _I told you so_ when she comes over to drag Morgana to the management meeting later in the morning. Even so, Mordred’s almost certain she's thinking it.

Morgana messages him just before his usual lunchtime to tell him her meeting’s running late, not that that's surprising; Mordred’s been there long enough to know that Uther Pendragon’s meetings always run longer than they're supposed to. Still, Mordred locks his computer and heads to the kitchen at the same time as usual, because routine is just as important on good days as it is on bad ones.

Maybe, though, he can handle a small adaptation.

“Hey,” Mordred says, scuffing his feet on the carpet to make sure Merlin knows he's there before speaking.

Even so, Merlin looks pretty startled, his eyes darting all over the place as he tries not to meet Mordred’s gaze. He swallows visibly, manages the wobbliest of smiles, and says, “Hello, Mordred.”

Mordred returns the smile, deciding against waiting for Merlin to ask what he wants, mostly because he's not sure Merlin _will_ ask. “It looks like Morgana, Arthur and Gwen are going to be stuck in their meeting for a while. I'm going to lunch now, if you want to come with me?”

Because, sometimes, anxiety and depression aren't as unconnected as people might think, and Mordred knows how much easier it is to walk into a room with someone than it is to do so alone.

He’ll explain that, if Merlin asks, but he thinks they understand each other well enough that he won't have to.

“Um,” Merlin starts, then swallows again, his smile a little more stable now. “Yeah, that'd be good. Thank you.”

“Any time,” Mordred offers, and actually means it.

**Author's Note:**

> Please note: The portrayal of depression in this fic is not supposed to be 100% representative. It is a complicated illness, and differs from person to person in the same way physical illnesses do. Different people will find different things helpful, and Mordred's less than favourable impression of therapy should not be reason for anyone to rule it out without first trying it.  
> If you are struggling with anxiety, depression, or any other mental illness, I would strongly encourage you to ask for help. If you don't feel you can see a medical professional, please speak to a friend, a family member, a mental health charity or support group, or even a stranger on the internet. Your feelings are valid, and the fact that you need help does not make you a burden.


End file.
